


Signs of Life

by Mack_the_Spoon, Namarie



Series: Bloodlines [6]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mack_the_Spoon/pseuds/Mack_the_Spoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unforeseen crisis reveals that Liz's safety is more precarious than anyone had imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the same "Bloodlines" AU as the previous Blacklist fics co-written by us. It's a sequel to "Bracing Against The Storm".

~~  
It had been a little over two weeks since Reddington was shot. Things were pretty much back to normal, and there had been no immediate fallout from the Fulcrum reveal. Ressler was still alert for anything that might come of that, and so was Liz, but so far everything seemed fine. Liz had finally decided she could relax a little, as well. That was why she'd wanted to come here.

But any thoughts of relaxation didn't last long. Ressler was jerked out of his near-doze near the fireplace by a distant crack like a gunshot, followed by burst of alarm, pain, and shock that could only be from Liz. A second later, she screamed his name in his head, louder than she ever had. Ressler was up and out the door almost before he could think. “What the hell happened? Where are you?” he called, heart pounding, hoping she could answer him. His gun was at the ready, but he couldn't see her from the front steps.

It took a few seconds before she replied, but the pain and fear she was projecting hadn't lessened in the meantime. _Out in the … southeast corner of the property_ , she said. Her tone sharpened. _Hurry! The man who shot me, he's coming closer! And I don't … I don't think it would be a good idea for me to transform._

“What?!” Ressler ran in the direction she had given him. It seemed like he kept going for ages before he saw her, and he started to panic that he wasn't actually going the right way. But when he got to the top of the next small hill, he saw her, still in dragon form, splayed out on the ground on her left side with the ground torn up around her like she had crash-landed. Even from twenty yards away he could see the bright red blood flowing from a wound in her right shoulder. She was trying to get up, though it obviously caused her a lot of pain to do so. Her tail thrashed. Her right wing hung limp at her side. Her left wing was extended. And there was, in fact, a tall man with a very large shotgun of some kind moving toward her. The weapon was pointed at her head.

“No!” Ressler couldn't keep himself from yelling. He raised his gun and fired, even though he knew he was too far away to be at all likely to hit his target.

The man looked up as Ressler's shot passed by him. His eyes widened, and he turned toward this new threat. He pointed his shotgun at Ressler, but seemed less certain. “Stay back!” he shouted. “This one's mine!”

Ressler hadn't stopped running. He paused only long enough to fire off another shot. This one came much closer to hitting the gunman. “Get the hell away from her!” he yelled.

The other man had dropped to the ground, and in doing so dropped his-- that had to be an elephant gun. A shot went off, fortunately not pointing either at Liz or Ressler, with such a loud reverberation that it felt like it shook the hills. Before he could recover the weapon, Ressler crossed the last few feet between them and dove at him.

But the man was ready for him. He had rolled into a crouch, and was able to fight off his initial rush. Still, sheer rage and terror gave Ressler the advantage, and it wasn't too much longer before he had struck the gunman a sharp blow to the head that knocked him down. Before the other man could try to recover, Ressler drew back his fists and punched him again, repeatedly.

As soon as he was sure his opponent was unconscious, Ressler took off the man's belt and used it to tie his hands behind his back. Then he turned around, almost fearing what he would see when he looked at Liz. Her head was resting on the ground, and her eyes were glassy with pain. She wasn't moving, but as he approached he could see and hear her breathing. “Liz,” he said. His heart clenched at the amount of blood he could see on her shoulder and side. “God, I don't-- I'm not even sure what I should do to help you. You-- you're sure you can't transform?”

She twitched her left wing, her gaze following his progress as he came to look at the injury more closely. He could still try to stop the bleeding, he guessed.

 _The bullet's still in there_ , came her voice then, several seconds later. She sounded exhausted and still agonized. _It's-- it's got to be big enough that it'd cause even worse problems in someone human-sized._

“Damn.” Ressler hadn't thought of that, but she had to be right. Something of that caliber... He shuddered to think what it would do to a human, though its destructive power on Liz in this form was terrible enough. He pulled off his jacket, and then upon further thought hurried back to the unconscious hunter, untied his hands, and pulled off the man's sweatshirt. Then he quickly retied the man's hands and returned to Liz's side. “This is going to hurt like hell. I'm sorry.”

She took a breath. _Do it._

He had to climb onto her side to reach the shoulder, and when he pressed the pathetically inadequate-seeming bundle of cloth to the bullet wound, Liz hissed and tried to retreat from him instinctively. He barely kept himself from falling off, and he hated to think he had caused the increase in her pain that he could still sort of feel. But at least there was something that might slow the outpouring of her blood. “Okay. Sorry,” he repeated. “Uh, can you contact Red from here, or is he too far away?”

Her response again came slower than expected. _I've been trying. He must be too far away._

From his vantage point he couldn't really see her face to see how she was doing. It didn't sound good, though. “Okay.” Doing his best to maintain the pressure with his right hand, Ressler fumbled for his cell phone with his left hand. He came perilously close to dropping it when the phone rang just as his fingers closed around it. But he finally managed to get it out of his pocket to see that it was Dembe calling.

The other lieutenant's voice was tense. “Ressler. Raymond tells me something is wrong with Elizabeth.”

“Dembe, thank God,” he said, closing his eyes for just a second. Reddington must have felt her get shot, like she had felt for him just two weeks ago. “Yes, Liz is in trouble. She's been shot. We're out at the farmhouse, the one where she took me to pledge--”

“I know which place you're talking about,” Dembe interrupted. “Who shot her? Is the area secure? Can she be moved?”

“Some guy with an elephant gun,” Ressler said. He allowed his fury and fear to color his tone a little as he continued, “She was hunting. I'm pretty sure there's no one else around, but no, she can't be moved. She's still in dragon form, and she said she probably can't change back without causing a lot more damage. The bullet is still in her, in her shoulder.”

Dembe muttered what sounded like a curse. There was a voice in the background that sounded a lot like Reddington's, and then a rustling sound before Reddington himself came on the line. “Donald,” he said, a lot more crisply than Ressler would have thought possible from someone who was still on plenty of heavy-duty painkillers. “How is Elizabeth? Is she conscious?”

Ressler half stood up to look at Liz's head, and relayed the question. Her eyes were barely open, and once more she took a long time to reply. _Sort of_ , she said. _Not … for much longer, I don't think._

When her father heard this, he sighed. “This is as close to a worst-case scenario as I care to think about. I assume you're doing what you can for her.”

“Yeah, I'm trying to stop the bleeding,” Ressler said. The fabric under his hand was getting soaked. “But that's about all I can do.”

“I understand,” said Red. “Dembe I and I will be there as soon as possible, and we'll bring help. Stay alert.”

“Got it,” said Ressler. A second later, the call ended. He sighed and put the phone back in his pocket. “Hang in there, Liz,” he said, resuming the pressure on her shoulder with both hands. “Help is on the way.”

She didn't answer. Remembering all too well the agony of his own gunshot wound, Ressler couldn't help being relieved for her sake, that she had passed out. At least she was still breathing; he could feel her side rise and fall under him, though it didn't sound smooth.

A thought occurred to Ressler a few minutes later: Samar. He should call her. She should know what was going on with Liz, and she should hear it from him. Carefully, he pulled out his phone again (he hoped the blood on his hands was dry enough not to be a problem) and called her.

As soon as she heard, Samar wanted to come out there. “I can be there in...” She trailed off and swore. “How much good can I do if it takes me half an hour to get to the farmhouse?”

“Talk to Dembe,” Ressler said after a moment's thought. “I get the feeling he and Reddington have a faster way of getting here – if they haven't already left.”

“All right. I'll be there as soon as I can,” she said. “And Ressler – thanks for calling.”

“Yeah.” When she hung up, Ressler put the phone away again and moved his hand back to Liz's shoulder. The bleeding looked to have slowed. Or at least he thought so.

Time passed. To Ressler, sitting on Liz's almost totally still form while he tried to keep her from bleeding out, it sure felt like far too much time. But when he heard the approach of a helicopter and pulled out his phone again, he saw it had been just under fifteen minutes since he had first called. Reddington's response time couldn't be faulted – if this was Reddington, that is. He fought off a wave of panic, wondering what the hell he would do if it was someone else in the chopper. He still had his gun, but he and Liz would be at a severe disadvantage if--

 _Don't worry, Donald, it's us_ , came Reddington's voice then, as the chopper came into view and started to descend. _You should stay where you are until we disembark._

The din of the helicopter blades brought Liz out of unconsciousness. She shifted under him, then hissed again. _Oh, God, that hurts!_ Now she was breathing faster, and it definitely sounded ragged.

“I know you know this, Liz, but try not to move,” Ressler said. He wished he had a hand free just to try to comfort her. “Your father brought help of some kind.”

 _Yeah, I see that._ She was probably watching, like Ressler was, as the chopper landed relatively nearby and the rotors were shut down.

 _Lizzie_ , Reddington said, including Ressler though Ressler knew he didn't have to, _I'm here. I've brought Agent Navabi, Mr. Kaplan, and a few other friends with me. They'll see to your injury so that we can get you back home, all right?_

Her mental voice still sounded less than fully aware – not that that was a surprise. _Okay. But I can't transform like this._

 _I know, my dear_ , said Reddington. He had come to stand close to her; Ressler could see him if he sat up. The expression on the man's face was one of both tenderness and worry. _We'll have to take out the bullet first, which I'm afraid will be a nasty process. But we brought something to help with the pain._

Liz didn't reply – at least not in a way that Ressler could hear. Samar, however, let out a cry of dismay as she moved to stand next to Reddington. Her gaze was on Liz's bloody side. “Who the hell could have done this? How did they know where to find her?”

“Those are questions to which I intend to discover answers,” Reddington said. His voice was cold. “I see that Donald has taken the first step, and trussed up the hunter for us. But first things first. Mr. Kaplan, if you'll please get started. And while that begins, Samar, perhaps you could do as we discussed and lead a team to track this man's movements. Dembe will go with you.”

Samar agreed. She left with Dembe, though she cast a number of looks over her shoulder at Liz as she did.

That was when the older woman Ressler had last seen at Reddington's hospital bedside climbed up next to him, carrying a small plastic case with her. “Agent Ressler,” she said, “you can keep applying pressure to the wound for a few more minutes. I'm going to give her an injection of a local anesthetic mixed with a light sedative. Would you tell her that's what I'm doing? I can tell she's not very aware of her surroundings right now, and I think she'd take it better coming from you.”

Ressler dutifully passed along Mr. Kaplan's message. Liz didn't reply, but he thought he wasn't imagining that it felt like she'd heard it at least. When Mr. Kaplan stuck the necessarily very large needle into Liz's shoulder, Liz flinched but didn't protest. She sighed when the drugs started to take effect.

“All right,” said the woman a few seconds later. “If you could move a little further onto her back, we'll need to access the injury site.”

“We?” Ressler really looked around for the first time, and saw an unfamiliar woman with a larger case standing in front of Liz's right leg. Mr. Kaplan introduced her briefly as Dr. Neeson. Her gaze was oddly unfocused, but when Mr. Kaplan gestured for her to join them, it sharpened and she came up readily enough.

In other circumstances, Ressler would have felt more awkward about the fact that he was now climbing around on his partner's back. In this situation, though, he mostly found it kind of hard to balance, since it wasn't as if Liz's back was a surface made for walking on. He ended up crouching down once he'd made enough room for Mr. Kaplan and Dr. Neeson. Then he had to look away for a moment and take a deep breath when Dr. Neeson removed the bloody cloths from the bullet wound and started to clean it with a large cloth dampened with alcohol. The wound site was even more grisly up close.

“All right,” said Mr. Kaplan. “I'm going to ask you to keep talking to Elizabeth while Dr. Neeson and I do this.” She looked up at Ressler for a second as Dr. Neeson took out a cloth bag full of surgical implements. “You and Raymond both would be best, actually,” she added in a louder voice.

Reddington, who had been standing next to Liz's neck with his hand on her scales, turned toward them and nodded. “A very good idea.” After a pause, his gaze met Ressler's and he smiled. “Donald, why don't we both tell Lizzie the story of that trap you and your team set for me in Lisbon all those years ago? I think she'll find it diverting.”

Ressler stared at him. Not only did the operation he was referring to feel like several lifetimes away from where Ressler was now, but it had also been one of the more embarrassing failures of his career. Of course. Its only saving grace had been that there had been no fatalities.

Reddington tilted his head at Ressler's lack of verbal response. “Oh, come on, Donald,” he said in a cajoling tone, “if we can't laugh at ourselves, we can't learn from our mistakes, am I right? Or do you have some other story that we both know that you'd prefer to share?”

Naturally, Liz's father had hit upon the only topic the two of them could easily talk to Liz about – and of course it was something that would make Ressler look incompetent while showing off Reddington's superiority. “No, I don't have any other ideas,” he admitted in a growl.

“Well, then,” he said, beaming. But before he went on, he added silently, _The last time Lizzie was helpless while in her true form with doctors interacting with her was when we were in Frank Vandenberg's captivity, Donald. Mr. Kaplan and I would rather she doesn't partially regain consciousness and become confused about when and where she is. Do you see?_

Eyes widening, Ressler nodded. He now felt like a jerk for being so unwilling to join in on this plan. He cleared his throat and thought back to Lisbon. “Uh, let me think,” he said, reaching out a hand to lay it on Liz's back. “We got the tip that Reddington was in Lisbon on a Thursday night, and we were in the city by the following evening. I had a team of twenty agents with me.”

“Really?” said Reddington with a chuckle. “I didn't know there were quite that many. I suppose that's flattering.”

He rolled his eyes but went on with the story. Reddington, naturally, commented on almost every event in his recitation, adding his own point of view of what had happened as well as his critiques. Despite how negative the memories were overall, Ressler found himself able to enjoy telling the tale at least a little bit. He wasn't sure if Liz really was getting anything out of it, but at least she was lying still and letting the doctors do their work.

That lasted until they were in the process of actually removing the bullet. Then Liz woke up, screaming and once again thrashing in an instinctive attempt to rid herself of the cause of the pain. She was obviously not comprehending the situation. “Liz!” he said loudly, keeping his balance as best he could and stroking his hand along her back. Her fear and pain were awful to see. “Liz, it's all right! The worst is almost over, but you need to stay still if you can. Can you hear me? You're safe, even though it doesn't feel like it.” Reddington was also as close to her as he could be without being in danger, presumably speaking to her telepathically.

Eventually, she calmed, though he could still feel her trembling as the doctors resumed their work. She coughed a few times, and her breath wheezed. It was mercifully only a few more seconds before Dr. Neeson held up a terribly large, crumpled bullet and dropped it into a metal dish. “It's out,” the woman reported. “But the shoulder blade's been badly fractured, not to say shattered. She'll need surgery to repair it, and I can't do that here. It also looks like there's bruising internally – I can't tell how much abrasion there is on the lung.”

Mr. Kaplan, meanwhile, had covered the wound with a clean wad of bandage as blood welled up anew. She looked over at Ressler. “All right, Agent Ressler, we need to move now. Elizabeth needs to return to her human form as soon as possible.”

Ressler hurried after the two doctors and turned around to look at Liz. She hadn't moved. Her eyes were closed. Blood was starting to soak through the bandages already. She was still wheezing.

 _Lizzie_ , said Reddington urgently, still standing very near her face, _you need to transform now. It's very important, so that we can get you to a hospital as soon as possible. Can you hear me?_

She didn't say anything at all at first, but when her father insisted, she gave what sounded like a mental whimper.

“Liz, please!” Ressler said, clenching his bloodstained hands into fists. “We can't help you any further until you're back in human form. Please.” They were so close. If she didn't make it...

Finally, far too slowly for Ressler's peace of mind, his partner opened one eye, looking first at Red and then at him. Reddington explained it to her again.

 _But it's going to hurt_ , she said, her voice sounding small and scared. _I can't._

Hearing Liz like this made Ressler feel as much rage toward the man who had shot her as he had when he first arrived on the scene. He had a sudden idea that Reddington wouldn't be bringing this man to any kind of human justice – and he didn't care. In fact, part of him wanted to participate.

 _Yes, you can, Lizzie, and you have to._ Her father was both gentle and immovable. _If you want to get well, then you have to do this. And you won't be alone._

“We'll be right here,” Ressler added, in a raw voice.

When Liz at last started the change, she screamed again, and the sound cut Ressler to the quick. But as soon as she was human again, Ressler, Reddington, and Mr. Kaplan rushed forward to where she lay. She was lying on her left side looking up at them, although she was clearly on the edge of blacking out again. Ressler took the clean bandages out of Mr. Kaplan's hands and covered his partner's wound again, fastening it down with medical tape as the woman he loved went limp.

Ressler thought he heard Reddington take a shaky breath. “All right. Kate, you and Agent Ressler can accompany Lizzie to the nearest hospital. Then send the helicopter back for the rest of us once she's settled in.” He turned toward the man who had caused all of this suffering, who, Ressler realized, must have regained consciousness some time ago. The hunter was staring at their group in wide-eyed horror. “Meanwhile, I'll take care of this,” Reddington finished, his expression and tone vicious.

Mr. Kaplan made a disapproving noise. “Raymond, you're barely out of the hospital yourself,” she pointed out. “If you set back your recovery with this display...”

“Take Lizzie and leave now,” said Reddington. He glanced at his daughter for a moment before fixing his gaze on the doomed hunter.

Ressler bent down and, as carefully as possible, picked Liz up just long enough to lay her on the stretcher that had been brought from the helicopter. He thought he could imagine some of what Reddington was about to do.

“Well, you at least need to take care of Dr. Neeson first,” said Mr. Kaplan sharply. “Unless you want the poor woman to just stand here staring until you're done and the helicopter comes back.”

Reddington sighed. Then the dragon ordered the doctor to come to him, in the resonant, powerful voice that meant hypnosis. He commanded Dr. Neeson to help Ressler get Liz into the helicopter. Then once they arrived at the hospital, she was to leave without remembering any of what she had been doing here. Ressler was glad this process went quickly (he was acutely aware of how much blood Liz had already lost), and also glad to understand the situation a little better.

Mr. Kaplan helped Ressler get the stretcher with Liz on it strapped in once they were inside the chopper, while the pilot prepared for takeoff. Between the two of them (Dr. Neeson had already sat down, her face blank), they got an IV started as the chopper lifted off. Liz was very pale but not restless, at least. Her breathing still sounded labored, though. Ressler covered her with a blanket before he strapped himself in. When he looked out the window behind them, he saw a huge red dragon flying low above the ground. There was a human figure running ahead of him – though not ahead by much.

Ressler watched the chase for a few seconds, then turned away with a grim smile. It was fitting for the shooter to end his life in the terror of being hunted.

~


	2. Chapter 2

~~~~~~

It was the first time she'd been able to take her true form since the crisis surrounding Red's shooting. But now he was doing much better – he'd been discharged, and was recuperating well. And his handling of the information contained in the Fulcrum had given them a reprieve. As she climbed higher above the forest, the afternoon sun on her back, the last of the tension Liz hadn't been able to release finally vanished.

Just as she was beginning to scout for likely locations for prey, she suddenly had the feeling someone was watching her. It wasn't Ressler – he was back at the farmhouse, and anyway, she would have recognized his mental presence. This was a stranger. She angled her flight toward the person. No one else was supposed to be here. It was private property.

As soon as she had she seen the figure walking through a clearing beneath her, she noticed there was something off about his (or her) silhouette. It was lopsided. Liz pulled up short. She had the feeling she should be able to figure out what it meant, but this perspective wasn't what she was used to, of course.

The important thing was that this intruder had probably already seen her. That meant she would have to deal with this. Hopefully, he wouldn't try to run, since she had no desire to terrify him by chasing him. She tilted forward to dive down a little closer, intending to get a better look at him, first.

And that was when she heard the crack, impossibly loud, and felt fire score her right side. She screamed, and realized that she couldn't feel her right wing. That meant that despite her best efforts, the ground was now getting closer so fast that she could hardly comprehend it. She called out for Ressler, although as far as she knew he wasn't very close. Shot. She'd been shot. And it had to have been with a very high-powered weapon for it to have caused this much damage.

Ressler was coming. She heard his thoughts say so. But she couldn't land well – not without the proper use of her right front leg or wing. This was very bad. It was far more of a crash than a landing, and the impact almost made her scream again. Even on the ground, she couldn't keep her balance, and barely had time to move her left wing out of the way before falling onto her left side. God, it hurt. But she had to tell her partner where she was. _Hurry!_ she told him, moving her head to get a better look at the shooter. _He's coming closer! And I don't..._ she paused, swallowing as she realized, _I don't think it would be a good idea for me to transform._

Ressler had heard. He was coming, but so was the shooter. And the man was raising the huge rifle in his arms again. Panic flooded her, and she tried desperately to get up, to get away. None of her limbs were cooperating well enough, however. It was beyond her even to scoot herself away. The man was going to kill her, like she was some helpless, dumb animal in a snare. Never in her worst nightmares had she imagined dying like this.

Then Ressler shouted, and when the gun went off this time, it was his. Liz's vision was blurring, and things were suddenly a lot more confusing. When the enormous rifle went off again, she flinched, expecting the worst. But there was no additional pain. She blinked. Ressler and the other man were fighting in close quarters, hand-to-hand. And her partner hadn't been shot, either. Thank God. He would... maybe they would be...

Some seconds later, Liz realized Ressler was talking to her. “I'm not even sure what I should do to help you. You – you're sure you can't transform?”

It was probably a reasonable question. She tried to think. It hurt so much. No, she couldn't transform because... _The bullet's still in there,_ she told him. She didn't want to imagine what it would feel like to have that large of a bullet inside her human body.

He agreed with her reasoning. When he came closer again, this time with some kind of bundle of clothing, he warned her, “This is going to hurt like hell. I'm sorry.”

It took much longer than it should have for her to understand his intentions. But he had to do it. It only made sense, and so she told him to go ahead. She barely felt him climb onto her side. The pressure of the clothing on her wound, however, was renewed agony. For a moment, all she could think of was fleeing again.

But Ressler was talking. He sounded apologetic. “Can you contact Red from here, or is he too far away?”

Her father. She had tried to contact him immediately after her crash landing. _I've been trying. He must be too far away._ She hadn't even been able to tell whether or not he had noticed her frantic cries for help.

She thought Don had said something in response, and then there was another noise before she heard his voice again, but couldn't focus on the words. The pain didn't leave when she allowed herself to drift toward unconsciousness, but it was minutely better.

“Liz. Are you still with me? Still awake?”

Maybe it would be better if she stayed awake, but that didn't sound very possible. _Not... for much longer, I don't think._ The energy it took to answer was all but enough to push her the rest of the way into the blackness around her. It was a relief to let go.

She had no idea how much time had passed when a loud, constant racket forced her awake again. What the hell was that? Unthinkingly, she tried to get up, only to be reminded cruelly of how bad of an idea it was to try to move at all. _Oh, God, that hurts!_

Ressler was still there. “Try not to move,” he told her sympathetically, and informed her that it was Red who was arriving, and that he was bringing help.

With her eyes cracked open, she watched the helicopter land. She felt Red, and at least four other people. _Lizzie,_ said Red, _I'm here. I've brought Agent Navabi, Mr. Kaplan, and a few other friends with me._ He promised that they would see to her injury and take care of getting her back home.

Liz closed her eyes again. _Okay._ But they had to know that she couldn't transform. She was afraid to even try.

Her father was close now, she could tell even through closed eyes. _I know, my dear._ His gentle tone would have brought her to tears if she had been able to cry. So she just breathed, though it seemed to be getting harder to do so, as he told her they would take out the bullet first, and that they had also brought something for the pain.

From there, she faded out again, although she was aware enough when Ressler warned her she was about to get a shot of painkillers not to be too surprised when the needle went in. After the coolness of the drug hit her system, though, she wasn't aware of anything else.

The next time she woke up, it was to such a sudden and dramatic increase of pain that she was screaming and attempting to scramble to her feet before her eyes were even open. _What the hell are you doing to me?_ she shouted, heedless of the figures around her that seemed familiar. There were people on her. They were the ones hurting her, digging into her. But she couldn't get to her feet. Still. And each desperate gasp was making her right side feel even worse, not to mention increasing the feeling of heaviness on her lungs. _Get off! Get away from me!_

 _Lizzie!_ Finally it came over her that some of the noise around her was... voices. Voices that she knew. _Lizzie, you have to stay still. I promise we're all here to help you. If you can just stay still, this will be over in a minute._

 _What?_ She blinked, and her eyes focused enough to see that her father was standing close to her head. And there was Ressler, crouched down on her side. Where he had been before, she remembered. _Oh._ She lay her head back down and tried not to move. The sharp, deep pain in her shoulder that had brought her out of unconsciousness started again, but just before she thought she couldn't stand it a second longer, the pain dropped back to a slightly more bearable level.

She did her best to keep breathing, wanting nothing more than to curl in on herself and return to unconsciousness. Someone was saying something else in a voice she didn't recognize. The words had no meaning to her. Her eyes slipped shut. She coughed, which didn't help at all.

But they wouldn't leave her alone. Her father was speaking to her again, as if there was something she had to do. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? She was so tired, and it hurt so much. Instead of replying, she whimpered.

Now Ressler was talking, too. Was he pleading with her? Why would he need to do that? There was a panicked edge to his voice she didn't remember ever hearing before. _Ressler... what...?_ she tried to say. She didn't want him to sound like that. Or Red, either. She managed to open one eye.

 _We need you in human form, Lizzie, so we can get you to a hospital right now,_ Red told her, a very serious expression on his face.

They wanted her to transform. _But it's going to hurt._ Why couldn't she just sleep? There had already been so much pain today. _I can't._ Her father wouldn't hear that. He insisted that she had to, in order to get well.

She closed her eyes tightly. He wouldn't tell her this unless he meant it. Neither of them would. _I – I'll try._ She took as deep of a breath as she could around the agony in her side, resisted the urge to cough again, and then brought her human form to mind with difficulty. It felt like she was thinking through molasses. And then the shrinking, compressing sensation started, and for a moment the pain in her side felt like it was radiating through her entire body, and she screamed once more.

But finally, the humans around her were the same size as her – they seemed taller, in fact, as she lay on the ground, trembling. “Can I sleep now?” she tried to say, although her mouth didn't respond to instructions as well as she'd thought it should. And hearing no objections, she relaxed at last.

~~~~~~

Though she later recalled a few confused impressions of loud sounds, lights, and shouting that must have been from the helicopter trip to the hospital, Liz didn't wake for a long time.

When she was next aware, it was the voices that filtered through first. They weren't loud, nor were they particularly near. But she knew these people. They were her friends. People she loved.

“...said the surgery was successful. But she won't be able to use that arm for weeks, at least.”

“But she will regain normal use of it?”

Liz didn't catch the beginning of the response. “- physical therapy goes well.”

That first voice. Liz was still trying to absorb what he had said, but her brain had caught up enough to put a name to that first voice. _Don?_

There was a pause. “Did you just-?”

And the second voice. _Samar?_

There was a sound like footsteps, and then they were closer to her. She couldn't get her eyes to open, and it felt curiously difficult to draw enough breath to speak out loud. But now she was starting to actually understand what her two lieutenants had been discussing, and she didn't like the sound of it. _What's wrong with my arm?_ Her right arm, she knew, was the one in question. It didn't hurt right now, but even through the fog of painkillers she knew it should. _Tell me._

“Don't worry about it, Liz,” said Ressler. He cleared his throat. “You had to have surgery on your shoulder, but there's no reason you shouldn't be fine.”

He wasn't as sure as he sounded. She could tell. And she needed to know how bad it really was. But even the small amount of alarm that was able to get past the drugs was enough to make her gasp for breath. And she was still so tired. _Where's Red?_ Liz decided to ask, instead of pursuing the scarier question.

“He's close,” came Ressler's voice. “I think he's talking to Cooper right now.”

Liz frowned. _Cooper's here?_

“Yeah,” said Ressler. “Liz, are you in pain?”

 _Not really,_ she said. Her chest did feel heavy, but it wasn't too bad when she did her best to breathe slowly.

“Good,” said Samar. “Then we'll let you get some more sleep.”

 _Okay,_ said Liz. _Tell Red... tell him I'm okay._

“We will,” she said.

There was something else important that Liz needed to say. Ah, that was it. _Don, you saved my life. Thank you._

He sounded choked when he replied. “You don't need to thank me, Liz.”

 _But I do,_ she said, and she thought she'd succeeded in smiling. Her thoughts were slowing down. Sleep sounded good. One last thing, though. _Love you._ She didn't hear an audible response before she faded out, but it was all right because she already knew, anyway.

~~~~~~

The next time, Liz tried to turn over in her sleep, and the pain was enough to bring her back to reality with sickening suddenness. She moaned before she even realized she was making a sound. Then she became aware of the beeping of her heart rate monitor, increasing in speed in time with her distress.

“Shh, Lizzie, don't try to move,” another voice told her gently. “You're all right.”

 _Red,_ she said, trying again to open her eyes. _You're here._

“Of course I am, my dear. Would you like me to get the nurse?”

 _Not right now,_ she said. Finally her struggling paid off, and she was looking into the face of her father, who was sitting a chair next to her. _Is everybody else okay?_

He nodded. “No one else got hurt.”

Mindful of the growing ache from her right shoulder, Liz raised her left hand to her face and felt where the oxygen line attached to her nose. She cleared her throat. “I'm thirsty,” she said out loud, and was shocked at how raspy her voice sounded.

Silently, Red poured her a glass of water from the pitcher by the side of the bed, put in a straw, and held the cup close enough for her to drink.

When she had finished, she sighed, and almost started to relax before she remembered something. “Red, you came out to the property. And you're here now. But you should be home, resting.” What if he'd set back his own recovery because of her?

He smiled. “I don't want you to concern yourself with anyone's recovery other than your own, Lizzie. But I will tell you that Dembe and Mr. Kaplan have been staying close. They're still... very attentive.”

Liz blinked, and looked him over as carefully as she could without moving. “Good.” He seemed all right. He was tired, but when wasn't he tired? She allowed herself to sink back completely onto her pillow.

“Lizzie, I have to apologize,” said Red, his lips tightening. “You should have been safe out there. I've begun a thorough check into security measures throughout my territory, but it's only too obvious that this is too late.” He swallowed, and picked up her left hand. “Somehow, a human poacher of all people slipped through, more than once.”

She squeezed his hand. “I don't blame you, Red.” She closed her eyes, although when her brain chose that moment to bring up the image of that man with his gun aimed at her head, she opened them again quickly. “So he was a poacher?” And what had Red meant, that the man slipped through more than once?

Red nodded, a muscle under his eye twitching. “Apparently he had staked out the property for a few months, and therefore glimpsed you once before.”

That was not a pleasant thought. And it occurred to her that Red must have interrogated the man in order to know these facts. There was no chance he had let him go afterward, either. Yet when Liz imagined the concept of a human assuming that any dragon (not just her) was nothing but a rare animal to be shot and made into a trophy... She realized her breathing had sped up again.

“Shh,” Red said again, stroking a lock of hair from her face. “He won't be troubling any of us ever again.”

In the midst of trying to breathe normally, Liz coughed, which took everything from painful and unpleasant to awful immediately. The spasm jostled her shoulder as well as making her lungs burn, and she couldn't hold back the cry of pain as she fought to inhale.

Red had said something in an alarmed voice, but she couldn't hear. However, the gist was clear, as a nurse came running into the room a minute later. _Hold on, Lizzie,_ she heard, and then cool relief spread through her body, and she slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the POV switch here is interesting and not overly repetitive - we felt that having both Liz and Ressler's experiences of this event might be more complete.
> 
> Thanks for reading! There's still a little more to this particular story, and more in this universe.


	3. Chapter 3

~~~~~~

It was another two days before the doctors were satisfied that nothing was infected, and that Liz was breathing well enough on her own, for her to be discharged. Dr. Grady, her surgeon, scheduled a follow-up in a month so they could see how her shoulder blade was healing, and when the plate could be removed. And following that, Liz knew she was in for significant physical therapy.

With that prospect, plus the boredom of having done nothing but lie in a hospital bed for over two days, added to how uncomfortable it was just to walk to the car, Liz felt tense and unhappy as Ressler drove them home. Though she was still on some fairly hefty painkillers, every bump the car went over seemed magnified. Her arm, encased as it was in a hard brace, felt like it was about to come apart. By the time they reached their building, and Ressler was opening her door for her, Liz was furious with herself for the silent tears that were now covering her cheeks. It wasn't like her pain was even as severe as it had been just recently.

“I'm sorry, Liz,” he said, compassion in his eyes and voice. “Just a little bit further, and then you can relax.” He extended an arm.

She wiped her face with her left hand and then grabbed his arm with it. She leaned on him heavily for the trip into their building, focusing on each step. “Elevator, please,” she managed, when they got inside. Normally, she would never bother with it for reaching the second floor, but the idea of taking the stairs like this was more than she could bear.

“Of course,” said Ressler, continuing to support her without a trace of complaint. They had a moment of awkwardness at Liz's door, as he had to disentangle himself from her partly in order to use the key. But he didn't let her fall, and minutes later she was on the couch, trying to lie back in a way that would put the least amount of pressure on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Liz sighed, although what she wanted to do was sob, or yell, or do something to express her frustration with how totally helpless she felt. No, it wasn't just a feeling. It was a fact. That was the worst part.

“You're welcome,” he said gently. “Do you need anything? Some water?”

She knew she had at least an hour before she could take another pain pill (which at least would not be overly tempting to Ressler, after she had helped him not crave them). “I think I'm about to fall asleep,” she said.

“Okay. I'll be right here if you change your mind.”

~~~~~~

“Liz!” It took less than ten seconds for him to rush into the bedroom and crouch down to where she had fallen. “Are you okay?”

She closed her eyes briefly. “Yeah. I'm fine.” Except for the part where she was lying on the floor outside her master bathroom, having narrowly avoided falling directly onto her injured shoulder.

But Ressler kindly avoided saying that. “What happened?”

“I tripped, I guess,” she said, embarrassment coloring her tone. “And of course I went to catch myself with my right arm, and by the time I remembered I couldn't do that, it was too late to use my left.” She winced as she tried to get into a position where she could stand, and swore under her breath. She may not have landed on her shoulder, but it was still protesting this kind of treatment.

“Let me help,” he said.

“It's not like I have any choice,” she snapped. She couldn't even move around her apartment without it becoming a production.

Ressler exhaled, but didn't speak immediately. Then he said, “There was one day after I got home from the hospital, after I was shot, where I went to stop myself from falling, and instead I ended up pulling a couple of pictures off my wall and landing with my head literally in the trash can in my bedroom. And all I'd been trying to do was get up to take my meds.” He grimaced. “I don't know how the picture frames missed hitting me. That would have been the icing on the cake. Anyway, it took me forever to get back up and then clean myself off. But I was still grateful that at least no one saw me.”

Sighing, Liz accepted his hand with her left and let him pull her upright. “I'm sorry, Ressler. I guess I have been acting like I'm the only one who's ever had to do this, haven't I?”

He shook his head. “See, but I remember how hard it is to think about anything else. Thankfully I don't remember it too clearly by this point, though.”

“So there's hope,” Liz muttered. She straightened. “Well. Given what just happened, and your story, I won't bother to tell you I can walk to the living room by myself. Although I still wish I could.”

Ressler put just one hand under her left elbow. “Yeah. But you'll get there.”

“To the living room, or to the point where I can walk there by myself?” she asked wryly.

“Both,” was his response. “Just take it one step at a time.”

~~~~~~

It took a month until Liz was ready and able to convince her partner to let her go to work, even just to sit at her desk and catch up on paperwork. Really what she wanted was to see someone other than her physical therapist outside of her house, and do something other than sleep and physical therapy. But Don was adamant that he would only take her for half a day.

That probably turned out to be a good thing, despite her complaints. First of all, doing anything that involved writing was still very difficult – almost impossible, it turned out. Her right hand could move, but her arm was still in a sling and she wasn't supposed to take it out except to bathe and change clothes. And writing with her arm in a sling was awkward and painful.

But it was nice to see her coworkers. They also took the opportunity to say hello and tell her to get well soon. Samar had already come over to Liz's apartment a few times, but this was the first time she'd seen Aram in several weeks. “Liz! You're here. I didn't expect you to come into work for a while yet. Not that I'm not glad to see you.”

She smiled. “It's good to see you, too, Aram. I got your card, by the way. Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he said, beaming. “How's your shoulder?” He glanced at the sling.

“It's getting better,” she said.

“I still can't believe you were just hiking and someone shot you,” he said, eyes wide and sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Liz said. “I barely believe it, either.” They had decided that sticking as close to the truth as possible was their best option to explain what had happened.

“Did the police catch the guy?”

Liz pressed her lips together. “No.” Part of her wanted to tell her friend that she was pretty sure Reddington had caught the perpetrator. She couldn't bring herself to feel any distress that he was dead, and she thought it might set Aram's mind at ease to know the guy wouldn't get away with it. But on second thought, she didn't want to freak him out.

“Too bad.” He shook his head slightly, then smiled again, visibly changing the subject. “Anyway. It's good to see you back on your feet, Agent Keen.”

Cooper echoed that sentiment, although he also made sure she knew he didn't expect her to try to come back to full-time work until she was totally ready. “Take care of yourself first, Keen. That's an order.”

And after one half-day where she didn't accomplish much, Liz was willing to admit that she wasn't up for a lot more work yet. She was exhausted, and her arm hurt, and there wasn't a lot of point because she knew Red wouldn't bring any names from the Blacklist while she was still recovering. Still, she glared at Don as he helped her out of the car back at their building. “Shut up, Ressler,” she said.

“What? I didn't say anything,” he protested.

“Yeah, but you were thinking 'I told you so' loud enough for me to hear without any telepathy,” she grumbled.

“Uh huh,” he said. “In that case, I'll say it out loud, too: I told you so.”

She rolled her eyes. “Says the guy who was back at work after his shooting as soon as he could stand without falling over.”

“And you gave me shit about it then, too, as I recall,” Don said. “Just doing my part. And it doesn't change the fact that I was right, for this situation.”

Liz scoffed, but stayed silent until they were back in her apartment. Then, after she had sunk into the couch, she met Don's eyes. “What am I going to do if my arm doesn't heal completely? I can barely even write, with it like this.”

“Liz, your therapist says you're doing great,” her partner said. “She also said you wouldn't be able to do much work for a few more weeks. So don't get worried for no reason.”

“I know, I know,” she said. Then she let her head fall back and groaned. “Sorry. I sound like a whining kid. It was actually an okay day.”

Don patted her uninjured shoulder as he walked by. “You're cute when you're whining.”

Liz sat up and glared again. Then she blew out a breath and chuckled. “Right. If you honestly feel that way after a month of listening to me complain, maybe you have a masochistic streak I never knew about.”

Don cocked an eyebrow. “You'll have to wait until your arm is back to normal before we can find out.”

~~~~~~

Six weeks after the shooting, Liz was anxiously sitting in the passenger seat of Ressler's car again, but this time she was more excited than frustrated. The metal plate in her shoulder had come out, and Dr. Grady had been pleased with how she was healing in general. So, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, today she was going to be able to transform. And she had chosen to go back to the farmhouse, just to prove to herself that it would be fine.

It was too bad that she still wasn't strong enough to fly. She knew that would be especially hard to resist once she was in her true form. But she would enjoy being outside, and she would enjoy reclaiming a place that had been tainted with a terrible memory.

Red had said he would meet her there, after she had asked him to give her the chance to feel safe without him there first. He'd taken to dropping by several times a week in the evenings during her recovery, bringing takeout from a variety of restaurants. Half of the time, he didn't stay after making sure neither of them needed anything. Liz appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she was starting to think he was perhaps having a more difficult time feeling that she was safe than she was herself. She was going to have to talk to him about that.

“You ready for this?” Don asked, as they neared the farmhouse.

“More than ready,” she said.

“And you're not going to overdo it,” he said.

She sighed. “For the hundredth time, Don, no. I'll be careful. I want my progress to keep going in the right direction.”

“Good,” he said, unrepentant.

She rolled her eyes, but as soon as the car was stopped, she opened her door (still using her left hand to push it open) and stood. It was still a bit novel that she could do that without causing pain. And then she walked around the house straight to the path out into the woods. Ressler joined her quickly.

They took it slow, but it was still only late morning by the time they reached the spot that was as close as they could remember to where she had fallen. There was nothing unusual about it now – it was just a clearing. “This is it, right?” she asked quietly. She glanced up to the trees nearby, but at this point there was no sign of the branches she'd broken in her frantic attempt to land.

Ressler nodded, expression dark. “Pretty sure.”

“Okay.” She eased the sling off her arm and handed it to him. “Then here goes.” It didn't hurt to transform. In fact, it would have been pure, unadulterated relief except that she did have to put some weight on her right foreleg afterward, which wasn't super comfortable. Still, as she carefully extended both wings, she exhaled. Then she sat, easing the strain on her foreleg.

“How's your shoulder?” Ressler asked.

_It's all right,_ she told him. _I definitely wouldn't want to push off with it, as if I needed any more convincing._

He came close and craned his neck. “It looks better than I thought it might, from what I can see.”

She turned her head, although the angle wasn't great for her to see the wound, either. _Yeah, it could be worse._ It would still be quite the noticeable scar, but it was hardly her first. _Of course, I didn't really get much of a look at it when it happened, so I can't compare._ And of course she couldn't really see the back of her shoulder, which would have a surgery scar as well.

Ressler winced and looked down. “That's probably all for the best. I can tell you it was, uh, dramatic.”

She knew she wasn't the only one who sometimes had nightmares about the shooting. _Well, you know me. I can tend to be dramatic._

He huffed out a laugh. “Right.” Then he looked back up at her, meeting her eyes as well as he could. “Let me suggest you skip at least that kind of drama in the future.”

_I wouldn't want to repeat myself,_ she agreed.

He shook his head. Then he reached up and ran a hand across her side. “Yeah.” His voice had lost any trace of amusement.

She blinked. As far as she knew, this was the first time he'd touched her in dragon form apart from trying to stop the bleeding when she was shot. She hadn't ever thought she disgusted him in this form, or anything, but she'd gotten the feeling that he was, perhaps, instinctively more wary around her. _Hey,_ she said, bending down so she could look more closely at him, _Red did a complete security overhaul, and I know what to be on the lookout for now. I'm as sure as I can be that it won't happen again._

“I know,” he said, and he smiled ruefully. “Or at least, theoretically I know that. But my heart's going to take a little longer to be convinced.”

Her throat felt tight. _Okay. Just as long as you know I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere._

This time he stretched up to touch her face. “I know you'd better not.”

_Or what?_ she asked lightly, bending a little lower so he didn't have to stretch so much.

He cleared his throat. “Or... I'll have to think of something.”

Liz laughed. _Consider me warned._ Then she paused, and lifted her head back up. _Red's on his way. He'll be here in a minute._ She could sense him getting closer, although it wasn't as fast as she would normally expect. _Weird. I think he's walking here._

Ressler raised his eyebrows. “Huh.”

Sure enough, a minute later Red and Dembe came up the same path Liz and Ressler had taken. “Lizzie, I see you're able to be comfortable in your true form. Excellent. Good afternoon, Donald.”

_Hi. Any reason you decided not to fly here?_ Liz asked, including everyone in the question.

His eyebrows rose. “It seemed unfair, since you can't yet.”

She would have raised her eyebrows in turn, if she could. _Red, I'm not that petty. I don't want to ground you just because I still have to wait before I can fly._

“I didn't choose to walk purely because I thought it would annoy you if I flew,” Red said, with a faint smile.

_Good, because it wouldn't. I know you want to. It's been just as long for you, hasn't it?_

He nodded. “It has.” Then he approached her and regarded her carefully. “The wound is looking better.”

_Yeah,_ she said. _And it doesn't hurt to move my right wing._ She demonstrated, watching to be sure she didn't hit Red or Ressler, before folding it again.

“Glad to hear it,” said Red.

_Are you satisfied?_ she asked, keeping her tone dry instead of irritated. _You're not going to make that poor doctor come back and do another examination, are you?_ She had no memory of the woman who had been made to help remove the bullet, but Ressler had mentioned her.

“Would you rather I be disinterested?”

_No,_ she said, exasperated in spite of herself. _But you're acting..._ She trailed off, not having planned to have this conversation with Ressler and Dembe present. _Nevermind._ She wasn't about to just switch to talking only to Red, either.

“If you two need to talk, I can give you some privacy,” Ressler said.

_I guess we do. Sorry. It shouldn't take long,_ she said. He assured her it wasn't a problem, and he and Dembe both moved out of sight.

“Lizzie, I'm afraid I don't see how me asking about your health is overstepping some kind of boundary,” said Red.

_It's not,_ she said. She tried to compose her thoughts. _Red, you've come to my apartment four times this week, and you came five times the week before. I don't even know how you're fitting in any time for your business._

Red looked surprised. Then he frowned thoughtfully. “Your concerns for my time management notwithstanding, I think your issue has more to do with the change to your routine, to the way you balance the different facets of your life.”

Liz shifted positions slightly, still trying to keep her weight off her right foreleg as much as possible. _However you want to put it. I'm not telling you to leave me alone, but –_

“My actions have only been a temporary change, Lizzie,” he cut in, but mildly. “When I completely rebuilt my security, from top to bottom, I needed to make absolutely sure that the areas I value most were as close to flawlessly safe as possible. And I don't trust anyone else to make that determination.”

She stared at him. _So, what, you were just dropping by to test your own security? Repeatedly?_

“I didn't mind the chance to see how your recovery is going, and make sure you were properly fed, as well,” he said, “but yes.”

_Uh huh,_ she said. Somehow, she was a little skeptical. _All right. Does that mean you're going to keep personally showing up where I am, until we've both managed to cover most of your territory?_

He laughed. “No, I've just about made the rounds already, and we've certainly covered the parts where you're likely to spend any significant time.”

She supposed the explanation was at least somewhat plausible. But this time, she wasn't going to allow herself to feel that she'd overreacted. She knew Don had been – puzzled, at best, by Red's extra attention, too. And then he'd been annoyed, although he'd tried to keep that to himself. _Well, good. And I assume that means everything looks the way it should._

“I have a few more details to sort out yet,” he said. “We are well on our way, however.”

Liz nodded. During the pause that followed, she looked up at the sky, open and inviting above them. It was time to change the subject. _You should fly, Red. Think of it as letting me experience it vicariously._

He smiled. “I do have errands to run, as I mentioned. But I could spare a few minutes.” He took off his hat and jacket, set them on the ground, and moved several paces away. Then he transformed, and a second later had taken off.

Liz watched until he was small above her, and then saw that Ressler had made his way back. “You didn't chase him away, did you?”

She snorted. _No, he just decided to listen to my suggestion, for once._ She sighed again, trying not to be too jealous after all of her urging. _I think I'm about ready to head out._ The change back to her human form was at least pleasantly free of trauma. Ressler offered her his hand to help her stand up, then made sure she could get her sling back on, too.

Liz glanced up again at her father, who was almost out of sight by now. Then she turned to her partner, and started to walk back toward the house. “So, Red probably won't be coming by the apartment quite so frequently anymore.” She laughed at the relief on his face. “Apparently he's satisfied with his new security people and with my progress, so we can expect things to go back to something more like normal, now.”

“Good,” said Ressler. “Because I'm not sure how much more of that I could handle.”

She nudged him with her good shoulder. “I could tell. And by the way, though I applaud your efforts, you don't have to be that patient without even complaining, Ressler. I thought it was weird, too.”

“Now you tell me,” he grumbled.

“Hey, all you had to do was mention it,” she pointed out. “Anyway. Can we get some lunch before we go home?”

“Sure, what do you want?”

She felt herself blush faintly. “Uh, considering what I didn't get to do today, I was thinking steak?”

It was Ressler's turn to laugh. “You know, you could have just suggested a steakhouse, and I might not have made the connection, if you're going to act embarrassed.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping back to Ressler's POV, from the hospital on.

~~  
Mr. Kaplan called ahead to the hospital, so that emergency personnel were ready to receive them upon their arrival at the helipad. Ressler was reluctant to let Liz out of his sight, even though he knew it was extremely unlikely for anyone to be lying in wait for them here. But he also knew it was a bad idea to get in the way of the doctors. He watched the surgical team wheel her into the OR and swallowed hard. She was going to be okay. She had to be.

It was only when a nurse came up to him and said, “Sir, would you like to get cleaned up while you wait?” that he recalled how he probably looked. He looked down. Not only were his hands stained with Liz's blood, but so was much of his shirt.

“There's a bathroom down that hall,” said the woman with a sympathetic smile as she pointed. “And when you get back, I can get you an ice pack for your eye, too.”

“What?” Ressler blinked at her. But now that she mentioned it, he could feel a bruise under his left eye. He guessed it must have come from his fight with the hunter. “Oh. Right. Uh, thanks.”

“I'll be waiting right here, dear,” said Mr. Kaplan. She patted him on the arm. “Go clean up.”

In the bathroom, Ressler took a look at himself in the mirror while he washed his hands. He did in fact have a nice black eye developing on his left cheekbone. Beyond that he appeared, unsurprisingly, exhausted and disheveled. That was without mentioning the fear that he could still see lingering in his eyes. Too close … it had been much too close. He let out a shuddering sigh. And there was no guarantee she'd make it through this surgery. She'd already lost so much blood, and the bullet had done so much damage...

Shaking his head, Ressler dried off his hands and left the bathroom. That kind of thinking was not going to help. She had still been very much alive when they got here, even with the way her breathing had begun to worsen during the trip. This wasn't the same situation as Audrey.

When he got back out to the ICU waiting room, Mr. Kaplan was there. She had a large purse on her lap, and she appeared to be doing a sudoku puzzle. “Any news?” Ressler asked her.

“Nothing yet, dear,” said the older woman. “I expect it'll be at least an hour before we get any update at all – if things go well.”

It was true, now that he thought about it, that hearing something this early would probably only mean bad news. Ressler sat down heavily next to Reddington's unusual lieutenant, and put his head in his hands. If he'd been outside with Liz, maybe he would have been able to stop the hunter before he had destroyed so much of Liz's shoulder with that shotgun blast. She wouldn't have been in so much agony. None of this would have happened. She could have had a pleasant, relaxing afternoon instead of being put through all of this torment.

“Agent Ressler,” said Mr. Kaplan, “look at me.”

Slowly, Ressler did so. She was looking at him with a mixture of compassion and severity. “I have a hunch you're trying to blame yourself for this terrible thing that happened to Elizabeth a few hours ago,” she said. “Don't. It's only the fault of the man who shot her.”

He remembered all too well the searing grief, rage, and self-recrimination that had overwhelmed him after Audrey's murder. This did feel similar. Taking a deep breath, Ressler nodded and sat back in the chair. “I'll try to remember that.”

Some endless-seeming amount of time later (his phone, which he had cleaned of blood, informed him it had only been half an hour), Samar, Reddington, Dembe, and members of Red's team that Ressler didn't know arrived. Reddington didn't seem at all surprised to hear that there wasn't any news yet. He merely nodded and sat down near Ressler. He seemed tired, which made sense given the amount of activity he'd participated in today, so soon after his own shooting.

Samar took the seat next to her fellow lieutenant. “How long have you been here?” she asked.

“A little over half an hour,” he said. “Did you and Dembe find out anything useful, tracking the shooter's movements?”

She frowned. “Not much. We didn't find anything to suggest that anyone else was involved in this. We tracked the man's path back to the nearest road, and found what we guess to be his car not too far from where you parked. The car is being examined for trace evidence now.” She met his gaze. “I hope I didn't cross any lines by informing Cooper on the way here that his agent was shot in an apparent case of mistaken identity by a poacher. He didn't ask for many details about the shooter, just about Elizabeth.”

Ressler sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. He'd forgotten. It was insane to think he'd forgotten to call their boss. “No, it's fine that you called,” he said. “When Cooper calls me, which I'm sure will be soon, I'll try to figure out what else to tell him.” He glanced at Reddington and lowered his voice. “Like what happened to the shooter, for example.”

But Reddington had heard, of course. He looked up and met Ressler's gaze. “If Harold asks about what happened to the shooter,” he said calmly, “tell him to ask me. You weren't there to see what transpired after the helicopter left, after all.”

“All right,” Ressler replied. He was both curious and uncertain if he wanted to know more. But he was pretty sure already that the man was dead. He was still looking at Reddington at this point, and Liz's father nodded slightly, confirming his unspoken thought.

Cooper did in fact call just a few minutes later. By that point, Ressler had decided he might as well give a few more details as to how the shooting had taken place. Cooper was appalled to hear that Liz had been shot by someone intending to kill a dragon, on Reddington's private land. “How the hell did this person know where to find her?” he demanded.

“That's something I don't know yet,” Ressler told him. He had stepped away from the seating area to answer his phone, but he glanced at Reddington again. “If Reddington knows, he hasn't told any of us yet.”

Cooper was silent for a moment. “That implies that you left Reddington alone with the suspect, Agent Ressler. I find it hard to believe that you would think that was a good idea.”

Ressler kept his temper with effort. “I didn't exactly have a choice, sir,” he snapped. “I needed to help Reddington's people get Keen into the helicopter ASAP. She'd just had a gigantic bullet dug out of her shoulder, and she wasn't exactly doing very well.”

“All right,” said Cooper quickly. “I understand. But then I'm guessing you can't tell me what happened to the man who shot her after you left.”

“You'll have to ask Reddington if you want to know that.” And Ressler was betting that Cooper, like him, wasn't sure he did want to know. “But off the record, I'm pretty sure we're not going to find a body.”

Cooper sighed and agreed. Then he said, “I'm going to come by and visit as soon as I can get away. But in the meantime, please call and give me any updates you might hear from the doctors, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ressler.

It was another hour before the doors to the waiting area opened to reveal one of the doctors who had taken charge of Liz when she arrived. Ressler stood up immediately, his heart in his throat. Dembe and Reddington did as well. Samar had stepped out to take a call from the crime scene techs who had gone over the shooter's car.

“Are you all here for Elizabeth Keen?” the doctor asked. At the affirmative answers, he nodded and smiled. “Well, first of all let me reassure you that she made it through the surgery very well.”

Ressler exhaled. That was good news. That was really, really good news.

“Ms. Keen sustained massive blood loss and severe damage to her right shoulder blade, not to mention the surrounding tissue,” he went on more seriously. “This also includes bruising to her lung and several of her ribs, which caused some breathing difficulties. We had to insert a metal plate into her shoulder to help the bone pieces heal back together, but if it heals well, that should be able to come out in just a few weeks. Ms. Keen will have to undergo months of physical therapy, however, to regain the full use of her arm.”

“But you expect that will be possible,” said Reddington. It was only sort of a question – more like a demand.

The man met Reddington's hard gaze without flinching (which was no mean feat, Ressler knew). “It will be possible, but it's not a guarantee,” he said. “Unfortunately, nothing is one hundred percent in this kind of case, sir.”

Reddington nodded, seeming satisfied. “I understand.”

“When can I-- When can we go see her?” Ressler asked.

“A nurse will come out to tell you when she's ready for visitors,” the doctor said. “It shouldn't be too much longer. But it will have to be only a couple of you at a time.”

Ressler made a quick call to Cooper, and then they all waited. It was only ten minutes later that the nurse came out to inform them Liz could have visitors. Ressler looked at Samar, who had just come back into the room, and Reddington. The older man shook his head. “You two go first. I see Harold is just arriving, and we have matters to discuss.”

Ressler and Samar greeted Cooper briefly before they followed the nurse to Liz's recovery room. “You can have fifteen minutes with her for now,” said the nurse – the same one who had offered to bring an icepack for Ressler's face, he noted. “She needs her rest.”

Inside the room, Liz was pale and still as she lay in her bed. Her right arm was entirely encased in a brace of some kind, and bandages, and also in a sling. There was an oxygen line in her nose as well as various monitors hooked up to her. But her heartbeat was steady on the screen, and Ressler could see that her breathing was, as well. He took a less-steady breath of his own and continued to watch her.

“She's going to be all right?” Samar asked in a low voice, from just behind him.

“Yeah, her doctor thinks so,” he said. “He said the surgery was successful. But she won't be able to use that arm for weeks, at least.”

“But she will regain normal use of it?” Samar looked at Liz and back at him.

Ressler sighed. “Well, the surgeon wasn't quite so definite about that question when Reddington asked. But he said she should, if her physical therapy goes well.”

Just then, he thought he heard her voice, very faint, in his head. _Don?_

He turned to face her immediately. There was no outward sign that she had spoken. “Did you just--?” he started to ask Samar.

Then it happened again. _Samar?_

He and Samar traded looks before quickly getting closer to Liz's bedside. Her heart rate had increased just a little, but other than that she still hadn't moved. “Liz?”

_What's wrong with my arm?_ she said, a second later. Her eyes were still shut, but now they were moving under her eyelids. Her mental tone sounded like it might be veering toward alarm, which was definitely not a good idea.

“Don't worry about it, Liz,” Ressler said, trying to sound totally certain and reassuring. “You had to have surgery on your shoulder, but there's no reason you shouldn't be fine.”

She was quiet for a few seconds, other than some more labored-seeming breaths. This wasn't good. She needed to be sleeping. She could accidentally hurt herself if she kept this up. _Where's Red?_ was her next question, though.

Ressler assured her that Reddington was close by, probably still talking to Cooper at the moment. Then he couldn't stop himself from asking if she was in pain.

Liz said she was all right. Her breathing had slowed back down, which he took to be a good sign.

“Good,” Samar put in with a smile. “Then we'll let you get some more sleep.”

_Okay_ , said Liz. _Tell Red … tell him I'm okay._

Samar assured her they would do that.

Ressler sighed in relief as they prepared to turn away. She was fine. She would make it through this. Then she spoke again. _Don, you saved my life. Thank you._

That, he had not been expecting. Ressler swallowed, and his eyes stung suddenly. He had to clear his throat before he could reply. “You don't need to thank me, Liz.”

_But I do._ Her lips turned up in a slight smile. Then, just as it seemed like she was relaxing completely back into sleep, she hit him with another phrase he hadn't been expecting at all: _Love you._

At that, he was rendered speechless. It wasn't like he ever doubted how much she cared for him, though neither of them were quick to put those feelings into words. But now she had. Even if it had been made easier for her to say because of the drugs in her system, it didn't change the truth of those words. He hoped she knew, even though he hadn't been able to return them before she went to sleep, that he felt the same.

Samar, thankfully, didn't say anything about what Liz had just said, or the no doubt stunned expression on his face. She just put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Come on. We should let her sleep.”

~  
Liz's recovery was a long, grueling process, but even with its slowness there was encouraging progress to be seen along the way. First of all, the metal plate in her shoulder was in fact removed after five weeks, since her shoulder blade had healed well. That meant that Liz could take a quick trip to her usual hunting grounds – not to hunt, since she still wasn't well enough to fly, but at least to transform for the first time since the shooting. Also, the physical therapy, though exhausting, was helping Liz regain her range of motion as well as her strength.

One afternoon, as Liz sat on her couch resting after a PT session, Ressler realized something and came to sit down next to her, thoughtful.

“What's that look?” said Liz, regarding him from above the pages of her book.

“Hmm?” Ressler met her gaze. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Oh. Uh, it's just that I was thinking about how little time I've spent in my apartment over the last month or so.”

Liz's face fell. “I'm sorry, Ressler,” she said. “I know taking care of me has become like a full-time job for you – or more than full-time, since you have to do it at night, too. I—”

“No, that's not what I meant at all,” he interrupted, taking her hand. “You don't have to apologize. Taking care of you isn't a job. It's something I want to do – well, except when you're being especially stubborn, that is.”

At his teasing grin, Liz smacked him lightly on the arm with her other hand. Then she asked, “So what were you thinking about, then, if it wasn't that?”

Ressler took a breath. He was hoping she'd think this made as much sense as he did. “Well, I was just considering how little sense it makes for us to keep having separate apartments at all. I'm happy to spend all my time in yours – or if you'd rather, you can spend all your time in mine.”

She stared at him with wide eyes for several seconds. Then she laughed. “I guess we've been busy,” she said, “or otherwise I wouldn't be able to believe it took us this long to have this conversation.”

He grinned again, wider than before. “So you like that idea?”

“I do,” she said, twining her fingers through his. “And if you're really okay with moving in here, I'm very okay with having you do that.”

“Good.” He leaned in for a kiss, careful to avoid her shoulder. She responded with enthusiasm.

“Just so you know, though,” she said, when they broke apart, “I'm not going to want to run the A/C in our bedroom during the summer, hardly ever.”

“Well, I like the sound of 'our bedroom' enough to overlook your implication that we're just going to automatically have it the way you want all the time,” he replied, matching her would-be serious tone. “You can just steal all the blankets the way you normally do.”

Her jaw dropped. “Such a liar,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “And me too tired to properly defend myself against these unfounded accusations.” Then she yawned and blinked at him slowly. “I do really like this idea, Don,” she told him. “Thanks for bringing it up.”

“No problem,” he said. “We can talk more about the logistics of it later. But for now, how about I give you a blanket before you steal it for yourself.”

She scoffed lightly, but accepted his help in spreading the blanket over herself. She was asleep a few seconds later.

~


End file.
